The Power of Art
by waterlilies52
Summary: A beautiful fairytale dream. One spell that can weave it into reality. But the problem is… all dreams end, no matter how much we don’t want to wake up. SxS AU
1. Footprints on Marble

Title: The Power of Art

Summary: A beautiful fairytale dream. One spell that can weave it into reality. But the problem is… all dreams end, no matter how much we don't want to wake up. SxS AU

Disclaimer: I own nothing except for the world geography homework waiting to the left of my elbow. 

Enjoy and please review afterwards! 

**§ × § × § × § × § × § × § × § × § × § × §**

**Chapter One:** Footprints on Marble

King Syaoran stared blankly at the pile of untouched reports on his desk. But to him, it was junk that only worsened his already deteriorating mood. 

Laziness, useless complacency, cold indifference, bored to tears whatever, plagued him night and day. Symptoms included unreasonable jibes at random servants and maids, switching girlfriends every few weeks and the most alarming one of all

Holding a nation-wide talent competition. Winner gets money and bragging rights that they impressed the cold, sardonic King who only displayed some sign of positive emotion when he beat his cousin in an argument. 

The word "talent" is being used loosely in this context. By literally being the most powerful man in the country, he considered himself the sole accurate judge of "talent". How did he define this talent? 

**tal·ent** [tal'-uhnt _noun_

The ability to manipulate the King's innermost feelings to produce the evidence of overwhelming approval towards a carefully thought-over performance that had been practiced to perfection after buckets of sweat, blood, and tears.

In other words, make him smile.

If you manage to lift the corners of his lips, then you pass the round. If he looks up, then you better think of a dazzling Part II to your act. If he continues flipping through the endless pile of boring statistics on his desk, then it's time to hike up your skirts and skedaddle as fast as you can.

To say that this whole thing was humiliating would be an understatement. Degrading to women all over the world would be slightly more accurate. So it's seems reasonable that the only thing the common folk talked, thought, and dreamed about was this competition, right? 

All in all this talent search began a couple of weeks ago, and apparently, it was the biggest thing since the invention of bubble gum. Cosmetics and clothing stores were having the best time of their lives as desperate teenage girls cleaned out their stock rooms. It was a stampede of greed, lust, and plain old dumb all rolled into one. 

Because after over two hundred people were rejected the first week, it became apparent that this man wasn't easily satisfied. Nor did he seem to have the manners to disguise said unsatisfaction. Many of the above hundreds had run home bawling their eyes out about how the king didn't even spare a glance at them. 

Point is, most of the females who entered the competition were downright bimbos. Even though some of them looked and dressed fairly decently, none of them seemed to have that little thing called "intelligence". The first thing they would do when their name was announced was giggle. And giggle uncontrollably they did once they saw how drop-dead their judge was. 

So to put it lightly, everyone was pretty surprised when on the third week, a new type of participant entered the room. Their eyes ogled at her, amazed at her simple attire, awed at her undeniable beauty. Her eyes sparkled like diamonds as she gazed elegantly at the king, shocking him with her captivating charm.

Maybe there's another contestant later on down the line like that, but it certainly wasn't _her_. 

Number one thousand and something was an ugly old hag.

She or he was covered from head to foot with a dark red old-fashioned cloak. Not even the cool, vintage type either. It hid her face completely from any curious spectators, but a few strands of gray hair peeped out from the opening in the front. 

Her back was hunched over as she shuffled towards the judges. If it weren't for her strange style of mobile transportation, nobody would have noticed that she wasn't wearing shoes. But since she did drag her feet across the marble floors of the royal palace, everyone cringed to the sound of the dreadful sounds that her, probably fungus infected, feet made.

Then once in a while, a scratch could be heard. Apparently, her toenails weren't trimmed to perfection either. The process continued for a minute or so as the audience stared flabbergasted in silence at the intruder. What was an old woman doing at a beauty contest?

"..."

"What the **fuck**!" the king was the first person to come to his senses.

She obediently froze.

He ran a hand through his messy chestnut hair frustratedly. "Eriol, you take care of it." Watching contestants try to dance was more exhausting than he thought, and after more than fifty that morning he definitely was not in the mood for this.

"Eriol", or the king's cousin and closest advisor on both personal and political matters (he refused to use the word "friend", much to Eriol's amusement), coughed politely and glanced towards the hag's direction. He alone seemed to be unaffected by the incident.

"Excuse me, miss, but have you gotten lost?" His parents had evidently drilled the whole "politeness and gallantry" trait into his head pretty well. Trust Eriol to never forget manners even in the most awkward moment since they caught Syaoran and his new girlfriend in his bedroom...both "his" referring to Eriol.

"No." 

It was a good explanation. One word. Concise, but specific. Right to the point. Unfortunately, the King didn't feel the same way. Well, at least after hearing that croaking noise coming from her mouth, it's safe to say that her voice matched her appearances.

"Woman, I'm giving you 5 seconds to tell me why you're here. If not…" the King glowered dangerously at here. "I've been known for my sadistic punishments of disrespect." He smirked at the thought. "One…"

The hag calmly fiddled with the sides of her cloak.

"Two…"

Flicked off one of the many specks of dust.

"Three…"

She looked around the room, completely ignoring the stares around her.

"Four…"

Admired the marble floor.

"Fi—"

"I have talent."

If this story was turned into an anime, everyone would have sweatdrops or fall down. But since it isn't, King Syaoran did the next best thing.

He blinked.

Seeing that conciseness wasn't appreciated here, she tried again.

"I'm entering the competition."

"…" 

"You're kidding, right?" The words escaped from his lips before he could stop himself. Eriol shot him a disapproving look at this un-kingly statement.

Surprisingly, she just brushed off the insult and continued. "I have 5 talents, one for each round of the competition." 

The King suddenly grasped her meaning, "But the 5th round is the final one! H-how do you know you'll make it?" He sputtered disbelievingly.

The cloak's opening turned to his direction. He had a feeling that she was smirking at him.

"Oh I will, don't you worry. Your _majesty_." She drawled out the last word mockingly. Syaoran sucked in his breath, _the nerve of that hag!_ He narrowed his eyes.

Ever since he was young, people praised him for how well his glared worked. It could intimidate the servants, his teachers, the commoners, the cooks, the maids, the dukes, the bishops, the generals… Basically everybody except for his mother and Eriol. Queen Yelan herself never showed emotion, especially fear.. And Eriol… well he had his own creepy smile to counter it. So Syaoran was mildly surprised that it didn't work this time.

Why mildy? Because there was something so much more shocking than his famous glare-of-doom not working.

"Glare at me all you want. I have a pretty mean stare, too, you know."

Sakura lifted her chin up defiantly and let the gray hairs splay around her wrinkled, dry, complexion. As she met the light in a very dramatic and theatrical manner, everyone let out an equally dramatic and theatrical gasp. 

Her cheekbones seemed to be nonexistent, thereby causing her skin to pretty much sag and droop everywhere. Though her skin was incredibly fair and probably had once been quite attractive, it only made her reddish brown freckles stand out even more. Her nose practically cried out for plastic surgery. And her lips? Chap-stick was invented for a reason, you know.

But that wasn't the reason why they all gasped. No. She did have a pretty intense stare. So brutal, so threatening, so cruelly captivating…. That Syaoran was struck by the most dazzling pair of emerald eyes he had ever seen.

_Who knew that all you needed to win this competition was a good pair of color contacts?_ Eriol smiled.

**§ × § × § × § × § × § × § × § × § × § × §**

**Random babbling:** Ok, first new edited chapter is finally up. As I was reading this (the old version) the first thing that came to my mind was: _wtf?_ I can't believe anyone even read this crap. Honestly. But I suppose it's good that I can criticize my own writing, all the more easier for my to improve it I suppose. Hopefully it's a little better now. I tried not to change the essential plot as best as I could but just a few things in the language and stuff to make it flow a bit smoother.

Review! It's the only payment us fanfic authors can hope to receive after slaving for hours on old laptops.


	2. Black and White Art

Title: The Power of Art

Summary: A beautiful fairytale dream. One spell that can weave it into reality. But the problem is… all dreams end, no matter how much we don't want to wake up. SxS AU

Disclaimer: I own nothing except for the incomplete research paper waiting in the backpack next to me.

Enjoy and please review afterwards! 

* * *

_But that wasn't the reason why they all gasped. No. She did have a pretty intense stare. So brutal, so threatening, so cruelly captivating…. That Syaoran was struck by the most dazzling pair of emerald eyes he had ever seen._

_Who knew that all you needed to win this competition was a good pair of color contacts?_ Eriol smiled.

**§ × § × § × § × § × § × § × § × § × § × §**

Chapter Two: Black and White Art

_Italicized phrases-_ thoughts

It wasn't that they were beautiful. He wasn't even drawn by the way it sparkled in the sunlight that poured in through the windows. Maybe that's why everyone else was struck dumb, but it took more than unusual eyes to catch Syaoran's attention. Hell, he even vaguely remembers seeing **red** eyes when he was little.

No, that wasn't why he was staring stupidly at the figure before him. 

Syaoran Li's eyes were fixated on her for the sole reason that she looked familiar. The glare was wiped clean from his face, and a little arc of the lips gracefully replaced it. It was the memory, not the person who caused it, that made him smile.

Maybe this is what they call "déjà vu". Because he knew for certain that he'd never seen this woman before in his life but those eyes…those wonderfully nostalgic hazel eyes…

_They make my heart ache._

A sharp tug of his sleeve broke his stupor. Syaoran blinked a few times. _Whoa. Where did that come from?_ "You all right?" 

Syaoran ruffled the hair on the back of his head a little in an attempt to clear his thoughts. "Uh yeah, Eriol. Just kinda spaced out there I think." 

The contestant had gone back to staring at the ground, allowing her hood to hide her face again. The same raggedy red cloak. Gray stringy hair, check. He slowly reached up to rub his forehead.

_I must be hallucinating. _

He looked at her again. Focused on the figure and squinted his eyes in concentration.

Still ugly as ever.

"Well... er...pray continue with your performance, then." Syaoran cleared his throat. 

Suddenly he realized that Eriol was staring at him. To be more precise, _everyone_ in the entire room was gawking at him. Hundreds of pairs of eyeballs glued towards yours truly.

Syaoran had to admit; it was mildly creepy. And the looks weren't the usual "oh-my-gosh-he's-so-hot" or the "wow-I-wish-I-had-as-much-power-as-him". More like "what-the-hell-did-you-just-do" gawking.

He raised an eyebrow. _All I had was a freaky moment of déjà vu…_" Is something wrong?"

The unfortunate man looked down almost embarrassedly before hesitatingly looking up to the king's curious expression. "Your majesty..."

_Holy crap._ Syaoran thought. This must be serious. Eriol just said his title with...could it be...deference? Could it be that the great Lord Hiiragizawa was actually scared of him for once? He would've started to grin maniacally at the thought if it wasn't for what Eriol said next.

"Your majesty... you just smiled. Does that mean..."

"What!" Syaoran sputtered.

Eriol shifted in his spot uncomfortably. "With all due respect, sir... but does that sign of approval show that er... miss uh..."

"Kinomoto." She didn't even budge a muscle from her spot on the floor as she answered.

"Ahem, yes. Miss Kinomoto. Does that mean that she has wo—"

"Enough!" For the first time in his life, Eriol cowered as the king's frightening glare. Sure, he made fun of Syaoran a lot in daily life, but even _he_ knew where the line was. And making a fool of him in front of hundreds of spectators was definitely not on his Top 10 New Year's Resolutions. If there's anything that he has learned from living with him since they were in diapers, it's that Syaoran Li has the biggest ego in the world.

Maybe they should've changed the rules so that the competition wouldn't be overthrown by any old person who happened to have pretty eyes.

Luckily for Eriol, Syaoran calmed down considerably quickly after a couple of deep breaths. He then announced in a very king-like manner, "Due to the fact that Miss Kinomoto has not performed her talent yet, the rules thereby do not apply to said participant." He cleared his throat, "Are you ready to continue, Miss Kinomoto?"

She laugh/cackled.

_Definitely just deja vu. I'm pretty sure that if I'd met her before I wouldn't forget such a… memorable encounter._

"I've been ready for quite some time, your Majesty." Again that annoying tone that made Syaoran suspect that she was smirking under her disguise.

So he glared at her again. No reaction. "Just get on with it," he growled.

Ignoring the obvious contempt in his voice, she demanded, "Do you have a piano?"

Syaoran rolled his eyes. Where did she think that she was? A homeless shelter? "Of course we have a piano, hag." He motioned impatiently for a servant to come near.

"I mean one of good quality." _Damn it. How is she always a step in front of me? _She smirked. "Or do you not have any? I doubt you're talented enough to play the piano anyway."

Ouch. Insulting the royal genes? That sure hit the spot. "Actually, the pianos belong to my sisters. We men don't do weak things like sitting on a bench for 5 hours plunking on some black and white keys." His brown eyes glinted mockingly, as he challenged her. "But then again, I guess you're an exception. Didn't anyone ever tell you that this competition was for _women_ only?"

Not missing a beat, she fired back, "Well then, whom may I ask was Beethoven? Was he not a 'man'?"

"No, he was a raving lunatic who had a bipolar disorder. He was a special case," he said.

"Mozart?"

"A little shrimp who had no life besides scribbling down circles and dots all day. Also a special case."

"That's because he started writing music when he was 5!"

"Once again: no life."

"Rachmaninoff?"

"Him? All he had was freakishly long hands that could stretch to a foot long."

She didn't even bother to counter his half-true jeer, "Chopin?"

"Poor guy who was dying practically his whole life. I don't think there was a time when he _wasn't_ sick of some strange fatal disease."

"But he was a genius!"

Syaoran pretended to ponder this for a moment. "You know, you may be right about that one."

Caught off-guard by the comeback (or lack thereof), she found herself speechless. "O-okay."

"Too bad he died so early."

"Yeah," she replied quietly. "What a shame." She found herself unexpected smiling at him.

He seemed to reciprocate her smile. "It's funny how he's more feminine than you though." With that said, the former smile promply disappeared.

She stomped her foot at his devious grin, "You annoying, bratty, stuck-up, insufferable **jerk!** I don't know how I put up with you!"

He gasped. "Do I hear an admittance of defeat? An announcement of departure? If so, then please. Be my guest. You don't need anyone to escort you, do you? Just go out the way you came in, darling."

This brought about another furious onslaught of insults, some of which that made the awestruck audience widen their eyes at her colorful language.

Somewhere in between "worthless piece of dung" and "rude pompous bastard" Eriol decided that it was time to stop the immature spat... no matter how amused he was by it. It was his job to preserve at least some of his best friend's dignity, after all. "The piano is here, miss." 

"Kinomoto!" 

"Oh right," he chuckled nervously. "My apologies, Miss Kinomoto. I assure you that I didn't forget such a beautiful name. I just prefer to refer to charming young ladies like yourself as "miss" sometimes. Really." 

She hauntingly tilted up her face a little. "Humph." He could've sworn that he saw a tip of a nose being pointed up, but with that huge blanket on, who could tell?

After waiting for what seemed like ages for her to walk to the piano and sit down on the bench, Eriol asked, "May I ask what you shall be performing for us on this lovely afternoon, miss?"

She took her time before answering. Shifted in her chair. Touched the keys a little. Cleared her throat.

"It's called... 'Song of a Secret Garden'."

Syaoran blinked, his earlier anger suddenly dissolving in the matter of seconds. _What happened to her voice? For a second there, I thought I heard a sound that was remotely... young. And...actually good-sounding? No, more like... melodic. Wow, she must have a wonderful singing voice then..._

Eriol had the privilege of seeing his boss suddenly go in a panic attack.

_Whoa, there! Where did that come from? "Wonderful singing voice"? No way in the seven depths of hell can Kinomoto carry a tune. It'd probably come out all raspy and disgusting anyway. I bet she's tone deaf._

And then he felt the art that began to flow from her hands.

There really was no other way to better way to describe it. As the notes surrounded his body, the word "hearing" became too degrading to be used to portray it. All of the feelings of the piece... Pain. Sorrow. Longing. They cried out to be heard as her fingers ran up and down the keys, coaxing the melody to express itself freely. One did not just "hear" her playing and praise that it was "interesting". That would be, quite frankly, an insult to the captivating melody that filled the room. 

It sounded like she was trying to release her own inner frustrations on the keys. _And somehow…I don't think that this was caused by just me._

In fact, she seemed to forget where she was the moment her fingers touched the black and white surface. One minute she was still frowning, but after calming herself down for a few seconds beforehand, it seemed like she wasn't even aware that she was playing to please a person whom she'd so elegantly referred to as an "insufferable jerk."

When a person is playing music well, gender, physical beauty, age, ethnicity, and every other outer appearance is forgotten by both the audience and the musician herself. As they close their eyes and let their minds wander to where the voices take them, nothing matters except the song. It overwhelms the body and enriches the soul. 

Art is not just a type of "recreation" or "hobby". It is a legendary form of communication that has been handed down for centuries. It is the basis of civilization, the power that never weakens.

For example, think about this. A famous pianist was once asked what he thought made his playing so magical after a particularly amazing performance. He frankly told his fan that he completely missed half of the notes.

"So then why does it sound so good?" The fan asked confusedly. How could his idol make jokes about such talented playing? He thought dismayed.

The prodigy answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, "I make the piano sing."

And if Syaoran had heard of that story, he would've definitely agreed wholeheartedly that Sakura was a master of the concept. 

5 minutes later after the last note sang into each and every one of the listener's hearts, Eriol glanced to his right to see what Syaoran's reaction.

And was, well, met with the biggest shock in his life.

Syaoran's facial expressions were actually relaxed. Usually (Eriol can state this confidently from many personal experiences) Syaoran was tense, every muscle in his body and his face tight, ready to spring into attack within a moment's notice. His eyes usually had a ferocious animal glint that scared many people from even approaching him. No wonder his name was "little wolf".

But now, he looked the exact opposite. His usual serious eyes were hidden under his eyelids. His breathing was slow and steady as he leaned back in his chair. And most of all... he was smiling as if he didn't have any troubles in the world.

And in response, Eriol smiled too.

* * *

**Random babbling: **Omfg the more I edit this story, the more I'm amazed that anyone even bothered to read it in the first place.(Thank you so much to the people who actually did and said that it was "good", by the way. Even though I totally don't believe you, it was sweet of you to say so.) The description in the beginning of the chapter about Sakura's eyes was just ridiculous, for lack of a better adjective. Totally sappy, totally wannabe-dreamlike, and totally unfit for the situation. Therefore, I spent a total of fifteen minutes just editing those five paragraphs.

Oh-kay, just finished editing the entire thing at 1:05 in the morning. Wow. Who knew that revising your own story could be so hard? Dunno if it's any good though.

Remember the three R's: **read** the chapter, **review **the story, and **raise** my poor tired spirits:)


	3. Taking a Step Back

Title: The Power of Art

Summary: A beautiful fairytale dream. One spell that can weave it into reality. But the problem is… all dreams end, no matter how much we don't want to wake up. SxS AU

Disclaimer: I own nothing except the neglected piano in the living room.

**Important Author's Note:** I have changed a couple things with this story. First being the summary and the second being the format in general. In the beginning of every chapter, there is first an italicized flashback of the earlier chapter's events, next **there will be an excerpt of someone in the future telling a story**, and then (obviously) the events actually taking place. I'm going to be using bars to separate the sections, so it should be pretty clear. Eventually, the second part with the future will merge with what's happening now (the present).

Hope that wasn't too confusing. Now on with the story!

* * *

But now, he looked the exact opposite. His usual serious eyes were hidden under his eyelids. His breathing was slow and steady as he leaned back in his chair. And most of all... he was smiling as if he didn't have any troubles in the world.

_And in response, Eriol smiled too._

**Chapter Three: Taking a Step Back**

_Italicized phrases-_Thoughts

"Once upon a time, there was a very talented girl. She was young, smart, pretty, and amazingly skillful in the arts. Her singing was heavenly, her drawings seemed to come to life, her dancing was poetry in motion... the list could go on and on." The speaker rolled her eyes.

"She pretty much possessed every desirable trait that a girl could ask for. A modern-day Superwoman. Unsurprisingly, her parents almost swelled up in pride whenever anyone mentioned her name. She was just… a really great person."

"Then why are you jealous?"

She shot him a dark look and sniffed, "Who said I was jealous?" He just looked at her patiently. "Fine, so I was. But, seriously, can you blame me? She was freaking _perfect._ Ugh." She wrinkled her nose distastefully. "Well anyway back to Mary Sue's parents, they loved her so much; ' even more than life itself,' they told her. They probably weren't joking either because after her older brother died, she became the main focus of her parents' lives. Without her, they might've given up being happy entirely. In fact, the father almost did."

"Her father was the one that watched the brother die, after all."

"He, the father I mean, was never quite the same again after that. Sometimes he would be laughing and it would seem like he had forgotten about it, but then he would suddenly look into in the distance and get this far away look in his eyes. And you just _knew_ instinctively that his mind was miles away from the conversation. Yeah… I don't think he ever really recovered."

The boy waited in quiet sympathy for the girl to compose herself. After wiping her eyes, she continued bitterly, "But the girl was still happy. She had many friends," she chuckled, "even a first love."

"On one fateful day, she discovered the magic that she was bestowed by the gods. Together with her friends, they fought against evil, overcame obstacles, and just… had a great time." She laughed and glanced at the boy, "that last part sounds kind of out of context, doesn't it?"

Without waiting for an answer, she sighed wistfully. "But those were truly happy days."

_**Ding, ding, ding! **_

"That's the 10 o'clock curfew bell! I have to go!" The girl hastily gathered her belongings before rushing off in the direction of her home, leaving the boy in a daze from all the information that he had just received.

"Oh," she turned around and winked, "be sure to come tomorrow night at the same time to hear what happens next." With that, she resumed her mad dash to the castle.

Syaoran suddenly came back to his senses. "Wait, how do you even know that I'm interested?"

She suddenly stopped in her steps and turned around to smirk at him. "By that disappointed expression on your face when I stood up, that's how."

* * *

Meetings with the regional governments.

Farmer rebellions in the north.

General Kunimitsu attacking one of the provinces.

Syaoran sighed. It was all old news, yet the tiring effect hadn't seemed to wear off. At the age of eighteen, the mere thought at having to do so much work irritated him, and things only gotten worse since then.

At the age of eighteen, his life, and ultimately the fate of an entire country, took on a whole new direction. China had gained a leader, but at what cost?

At the age of eighteen, Syaoran Li became the 4th king of the Li dynasty.

At the age of eighteen, he parted with his girlfriend of 6 years.

At the age of eighteen, a sad brown-eyed boy vowed to never fall in love again.

Ten years later, his best friend unexpectedly brought up the subject of a talent competition. The royal treasury had run a little low over the past couple years due to wars, corrupt officials, and severe droughts. In other words, the usual crap.

He was shocked with the idea at first, then disgusted. Syaoran knew exactly what type of women would sign up for these types of things. But after he carefully brooded over the _absurd_ idea for a few weeks (in which Eriol carefully avoided him and his glares), even he had to admit that the suggestion had potential. Participation fees would help the government considerably…and things were getting pretty boring in the palace.

One thing led to another and soon he was faced with contestant 1377.

Cloaked in a rough red cloth, she boldly stepped into his life and declared that she would win the thing hands down. Surprisingly, her bluff wasn't entirely illogical. Her performance was not only outstanding but made him nostalgic of how things used to be. Making Syaoran sentimental showed skill and careful manipulation; nostalgia required a miracle.

Syaoran had had the privilege of a happy childhood. He did well in his studies, pleased his parents, and was overall a pretty good kid. His friends were many, and there was no end to the mischief that they would stir up when their parents weren't looking.

"Song of A Secret Garden" spoke of the things long gone. One couldn't help but dream about them at times, despite the fact that they knew that it was too late to go back. Although lacking in finger technique, that didn't lessen the song's allure in the least. On the contrary, the song's simplicity made it all the more spell-binding. Besides, all good piano players know how to take advantage of an opportunity like this to add their own tricks.

And Kinomoto certainly belonged in the group above. Consequently, Syaoran smiled. It was really as simple as that: she pleased him and made him remember happy things, so he smiled.

Or at least that's what he tried to tell himself. I mean, who cares if that's his girlfriend's favorite song?

_Totally irrelevant_, he repeated to himself. _Completely, one hundred percent, unimportant._ It had nothing to do with why he was so happy. He shook his head. _And besides it's _ex_-girlfriend, now,_ he reminded himself.

It was certainly easy for him to say this now that everyone had already left. At the moment however, that split second when she lifted her hands from keys, he was struck dumb.

But the auditorium was finally empty, save for him and a couple servants cleaning up, and Syaoran could think with a clear head now that he didn't have to face those piercing green eyes.

"Have a good day, your majesty," the maid bowed.

Syaoran continued walking with brisk, confident steps without so much as a "thank you for your hard work" or even a "you too" for reply. Caught up in his thoughts, he missed the narrowed look a certain pair of amethyst eyes shot in his direction. A national conference was waiting for him after all.

He sighed, _this silly competition was supposed to _relieve_ stress_. And then, he had to think of a decent explanation for his behavior earlier to prepare for the inevitable confrontation with his mother. Eriol's quick thinking had saved him, but somehow, Syaoran didn't think that "it was such a beautiful day outside" would be enough to settle Yelan Li. But then again, words always sounded different when Eriol said them. _He should be a lawyer_, Syaoran smirked.

Then suddenly as if his feet had a mind of its own, Syaoran halted.

A black majestic grand piano stood proudly to his right, only a hands-width away.

His fingers seemed to have a mind of their own today, too. They stretched out to touch a white key. _**Plunk.**_

_It definitely sounded better earlier._ He chuckled and continued to walk out the two oaken doors. His footsteps echoed in the long corridor, the strong vibrations slowly evaporating into the air. Soon, they too disappeared.

And the room was quiet again.

* * *

A tall woman wiped the sweat from her bangs tiredly as she lugged her heavy suitcase through the door. That bellboy didn't seem as eager to help her compared to how he almost stumbled over his feet to help that rich man dressed in a stiff business suit ahead of her. _Bet he bribed him. _Her mirthless smile didn't quite reach her eyes. _Damn rich bastards._

After muttering a few more curses to herself, she finally managed to heave her belongings into the hotel room. Taking a couple of deep breaths to steady her pulse, she examined her new home.

It was small, that was for certain. A bed lied on the right side of the room, with a small writing desk in the corner. The walls itself, although sparsely decorated with only one or two pictures, were painted a light shade of green. A pretty lamp sitting on top of the table cast a soft glow over her new surroundings. After further inspection, the bathroom in the walkway corridor was surprisingly spotless, as was the room in general.

Sinking into a cushioned chair, she grudgingly admitted, _small but cozy._ Soon, her eyelids began to feel heavy, and the sofa seemed more and more comfortable by the second…

The door creaked open as a friendly voice seeped into the room, "Sakura, I'm back from work"

She giggled once she saw a crumpled up figure in the sofa. _She certainly deserves it after our ten-hour journey. _The amethyst-eyed woman smiled and whispered, "Sweet dreams, Sakura." Then she walked slowly out of the room, almost tiptoeing in an effort to not awaken her best friend. After closing the door with a soft _click_, she stepped into the main hallway.

"Boo!"

Tomoyo screamed. And then swiveled around to see a certain smiling man who was apparently reveling in his success of scaring the dignified Tomoyo Daidouji, judging by the large Cheshire cat grin on his face.

"Eriol!" She growled. "Don't do that again! How would you feel if I got a heart attack?"

The handsome azure-eyed man lowered his face, his eyes twinkling merrily."I would be heart-broken, dear Tomoyo."

His lips neared closer and closer, and Tomoyo closed her eyes in anticipation…

"Guys!" Caught red-handed.

Sakura stood in the doorway with a disgusted expression on her face.

"How was your sleep, Sakura?" Tomoyo inquired with an innocent smile on her face. Unfortunately, the gleam in her eyes gave it away.

"Good, until I was rudely awakened." She glared at the both of them, before sighing defeatedly. "Sorry for snapping at you guys. I'm just really exhausted..." She yawned.

Immediately, Eriol's mischievous look turned into one of concern. "Is something wrong with your eyes again? Are they working properly?"

Sakura couldn't help a grateful smile from forming on her face. _I have such wonderful friends._ "It's fine, Eriol-kun, just the after effects of a long distance travel. **And** a long day at… work. Thanks for everything, by the way. I know it wasn't easy, especially when you're doing so much for a complete stranger."

Eriol smiled at her naivety and replied, "It's fine, and besides, you're my girlfriend's best friend. I'd hardly count that as a stranger." His black eyes met her shining emerald ones.

Tomoyo cut in quickly, "Yes, don't be silly, Sakura! He has nothing else to do these days except read those old magic books, anyway. He's been itching to try one out since forever."

"Tomoyo's right," he grinned, which suddenly turned into a frown, "I'm just scared that something might go wrong with my spell…" Eriol drifted off worriedly.

Eager to reassure her friend, Sakura waved her hand back and forth and laughed, "No, nothing like that. I've been feeling really happy lately… It's like…" she tapped her chin thoughtfully. "…It's like the whole world was revealed to me. Like I was pushed into the light." She laughed, "That sounds funny, doesn't it?"

Eriol and Tomoyo just smiled back, clearly understanding what she was trying to say.

"I'm happy for you," Eriol said with indubitable sincerity. His eyes brimmed with an unidentifiable emotion.

And then as quickly as it came, it disappeared. Eriol was his enigmatic, humorous self again. "Now that that's settled, let's go get some food. I'm starving!"

Chuckling at their friend's childish outburst, the two women followed him out of the hotel.

* * *

**Random babbling: **Hmm, it's getting easier and easier to edit these chapters. This one didn't seem to be as crappy as the one before:) The ending still sucks though, but if I changed that then I would also be changing the plot itself, and I promised myself not to do that.

"Song of A Secret Garden" really does exist by the way. I encourage all of you to search it up on youtube or wherever you can find it. It was my inspiration for this fanfic in the first place : )

Like the new change? Please review!

Remember the three R's: **read** the chapter, **review **the story, and **raise** my poor tired spirits:)


	4. Excessive Curiosity

Title: The Power of Art

Summary: A beautiful fairytale dream. One spell that can weave it into reality. But the problem is… all dreams end, no matter how much we don't want to wake up. SxS AU

Disclaimer: I own nothing except the unfinished letter on my desk.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed :) And now without further ado, the story!

* * *

**Chapter Four:** Excessive Curiosity

A young woman draped in a dark red cloak rushed hurriedly over to where Syaoran sitting with a breathless "sorry! My boss was keeping me busy for what seemed like forever doing random things, so I had a lot of trouble making up a good excuse to get away--"

He snorted and cut off her rambling impatiently, "Just get on with the story. That's the only reason I come."

The figure faltered and looked at him sadly.

"Right… well where was I?" She snapped her fingers.

"Oh, well as I was saying the last time we meant, the three children learned magic together. But as time passed, it soon became apparent that the youngest kid was the best. Magic just seemed to come naturally to her, just like pretty much everything else." She forced down the temptation to roll her eyes before continuing,

"However, the boy wasn't too far behind. Unlike the girl who practically _oozed_ in natural-born ability, he worked for hours, sometimes days at a time, just to get to her level. He was very… dedicated."

Syaoran, who had stayed silent through the entire narrative, smirked. "Competitive brat."

Taken back by the sudden interruption, the girl gave him a long look before muttering, "More like lovesick fool."

"What?"

"Did I say something?" She smiled innocently. "Ah, I meant to say 'back to the story.'"

"That's not what it sounded like…"

"_Any_way," she cleared her throat, "since they studied under the same the teacher, it wasn't long before they became friends. The youngest kid--" Syaoran raised his hand expectantly.

"What? I thought we agreed on no interruptions," she glared at his offending hand.

"May I ask a question?"

Resisting the urge of a classic "you just did" retort, she merely smiled and replied, "Sure, but I can't guarantee that I'll answer it."

Ignoring her sarcasm, he asked, "Don't these people have names?" She shook her head.

"I thought we went over this already. No names, occupations, family history, birth dates, or any kind of specifics whatsoever as to whom these people are. Besides, this isn't even real." Syaoran raised his eyebrows incredulously.

"Honestly!" She held up her hands, palms up, in a "how-can-you-not-believe-me" gesture.

"If it isn't real, then why can't you tell me their names? Nonexistent people's names aren't exactly threatening."

"Ugh," she blew a strand of black hair out of her face, "I'm not even going to try to argue with you. No matter what, I can't tell you their names. And that's that," she added with finality. "Any more comments?"

He laughed. "Actually, yes. What I actually meant in the beginning before you went all defensive was just a way to identify them. Like Girl A or Boy B for example. Referring to them as 'the youngest kid' or 'the boy' gets kind of annoying, doesn't it?"

The woman stared suspiciously at his much-too-innocent grin. "That's it? For no other reason than to not get confused?" A nod. She sighed, "Well I guess it couldn't hurt. Nicknames it is then."

Tossing her a triumphant smirk, he gloated, "See, that wasn't so bad. I don't even know why you're so stuck on this secrecy stuff anyway. I mean, they're only a bunch of 10-year-olds. What's the big deal?"

The temperature suddenly dropped three or four degrees as the hooded figure turned a shadowed face towards him. She narrowed her eyes.

"Don't joke about things you don't understand. That's called ignorance." The haughty words shot at him like ice, pelting him sharply with their frosty exterior. Syaoran winced.

That's called ignorance.

_That's called ignorance._

_**Ignorance.**_

He looked down at his hands. When he dared to raise his head, his cheerful storyteller was herself again. She continued as if nothing had happened, "So, what do you want to call them?"

"Uh… I don't really mind," he replied a little bewildered at the sudden mood change.

"Hmm," she tapped a finger to her chin, "how about seasons?"

"Pardon?"

"Mm-hm, seasons!" She grinned. "That fits them perfectly! Let's see… the youngest girl will be Spring, the other girl will be Autumn, and the boy will be Winter."

"Isn't that a bit… random?"

The woman giggled and ignored him, "Yes, it suits their personalities perfectly. I'm so brilliant."

Syaoran backtracked, "But if they're not real people, how can they have personalities?"

She ignored him again. "So, as I was saying, Spring was the best in magic out of them but Winter worked his butt off so he was as good as her. Follow me so far?"

He stared at her. "You're really weird you know that?"

"Urgh!" She huffed and threw her hands in the air. "Do you want to hear the story or not?"

"Well, yes but--"

"Good, that's what I thought. So, we've already established how Winter, Autumn, and Spring met. Then when they were around 12, Summer came to visit them. He was a really obnoxious little boy on the outside, but when you caught him unawares he could be amazingly sweet and kind…"

Syaoran coughed.

"Oh, well anyway the first three children accepted him immediately, but it was Spring who got the closest with him. For that entire summer they were inseparable to the point where if one wanted to find Spring or Summer, they just asked for his/her counterpart. They were just so… so…happy together"

Noticing that she seemed really deep into her thoughts, Syaoran coughed again.

The hooded figure wiped her eyes hurriedly, "Sorry, I just had some dust caught in my eyelids. Why did you have to pick such a windy place to meet anyway?"

Deciding not to remind her that this she picked this secluded god-knows-where place in the forest, he remained silent.

"Winter was really jealous though. He was used to getting all of Spring's attention -"

"You've been acting really weird today." He commented offhandedly.

"What is _up_ with all these interruptions?" She threw her hands up in the air again. "Do you want to listen or not?"

"I'm just saying, you seem to be in a bad mood today."

"I wouldn't be talking, Mr. I-Say-Hi-By-Glaring."

He chuckled before ruffling her hair with one hand affectionately. "You're so strange. First you completely go insane on me about four 'nonexistent' people when they clearly affect you very much, and now you call _me_ the person who's in a bad mood?" He clicked his teeth reprovingly, "Hypocrite."

Her jaw dropped. "I am not!" She defended hotly.

"Oh, yes you are." He countered lazily.

"Am not!"

"To prevent this from escalating to an extremely childish 'am not, are too' argument, I'm just going ignore that." He smiled.

She was silent for a moment. "I think you're slightly bipolar."

"Oh? Pray tell."

She punched his arm, "Well when I first came in, you basically snapped at me to start with the story. And then after I get mad at you, that somehow makes you turn into an absolutely spiffing mood." She waited for his reaction impatiently.

He stared at her, just simply looked at her with this strange expression on his face. Then, he did the most incredible thing.

He threw his head back and laughed, leaving her flabbergasted in his wake.

"Why the hell are you laughing?"

"It's just that-" He sputtered between bouts of laughter "You're absolutely right! Oh lord…"

"O-okay…" she contented herself with just sitting on the grass as she waited for the slightly insane man to stop giggling.

"I'm not giggling."

"Oh crap, I said that aloud didn't I?"

He nodded in affirmation. "But really. I was in a bad mood before you came."

"Want to talk about it?"

Syaoran grunted. "I take that as a no."

"Well done."

Then, suddenly out of the blue, she remarked in, what she hoped was a very casual manner, "So I make you happy then?" They were both sitting with their backs against each other, looking at opposite directions as she waited for his reply.

A few seconds of silence. Then, in an equally casual manner, "Hm."

She had to bite her lip from grinning uncontrollably.

_Bong. Bong. Bong. Bong. Bong. Bong. Bong. Bong. Bong. Bong. Bong. _

_BONG!_

"Crap, is it 12 o'clock already?" She gathered up her belongings hurriedly, "Well I have to go; remember tomorrow night same place same time!"

And with that, she disappeared into the darkness, the shadows disguising her perfectly… whoever she was anyway.

* * *

Eriol wasn't surprised with what had happened. No, "surprise" wasn't a good a word to describe what he was feeling when he saw Syaoran smile. More like "envy" or "acceptance" or "sadness". How ironic that these emotions contradicted each other.

But that's exactly how he felt. And with a sigh, he stuffed all of these unEriol-like words back into a narrow corner of his heart.

"Is something wrong, love?"

Eriol conjured a smile and slapped it onto his face, "Nothing, nothing, my dear Tomoyo." He grinned again for emphasis.

Unconvinced she pestered, "But you've been working so hard lately, can't you take a break once in a while? I'm sure Syaoran would be willing to give you a few days off. You and him are such good friends -"

"That's enough, Tomoyo." Her eyes widened at his harsh tone. Never, never, in all their years of dating had her Eriol ever talked to her like that. _Her_ Eriol voice was usually gentle and suave, saying exactly the things that she wanted to hear.

"Is-is something wrong, sweetie?" She stuttered. Tomoyo didn't recognize this new Eriol Hiiragizawa. Frankly, she was a bit scared of him.

Ignoring her discomfort, he demanded, "Do you really think that I'm a good friend? Tell me, Tomoyo, am I?"

He laughed bitterly, "Do you have any idea what I'm doing to him?" His dark blue eyes practically pinned her to the restaurant chair, completely numbing Tomoyo from their surroundings.

In that split second everything changed. Their perfect relationship shattered like glass into a thousand pieces, unable to ever be put together again.

_Oh-kaay. What the hell is going on?_ Tomoyo thought frantically.

"Do you know how this spell is going to end? Do you know how this is going to affect them?" He practically screamed at her.

_Wait, why are you screaming? _"Eriol, sweetie, I…" her voice suddenly dropped into a barely audible whisper "…I don't think you're feeling all right."

"Oh am I?" he laughed again, this time slightly maniacally. "I'm willing to hurt the most important people in my life just for personal gain. I must be mad!"

By this time, people were starting to glance curiously in their direction. However, all they saw was a bickering young couple. Smiling naively, the fellow diners returned to their meals, not suspecting a thing.

Tomoyo suddenly regained her senses after hearing the last bit, "Wait, Sakura's going to get hurt? Why?" He looked like he was about to yell again, but then looked down almost in shame.

"I –"

"Hey, guys! What have you two been talking about?"

"Sakura!" Eriol and Tomoyo literally jumped in their seats. _Holy crap._

"Or were you doing something besides talking while I was in the restroom?" Sakura wriggled her eyebrows suggestively and laughed at their shocked expressions. "Oh, don't act so surprised. It's not the first time anyway."

"Actually, Sakura-chan…" Eriol silenced Tomoyo with a sharp glance. She shut her mouth abruptly.

"Actually Kinomoto-san, Tomoyo and I were just talking about the next phase of the plan. It was nothing, really."

* * *

Tomoyo's POV

"Actually Kinomoto-san, Tomoyo and I were just talking about the next phase of the plan. It was nothing, really."

Was it just me, or was that last bit directed towards me? Tomoyo scoffed. Well if it is, it certainly didn't _seem_ like nothing.

Sure I was slightly surprised when my usually calm boyfriend started yelling at me. Maybe even scared. But Tomoyo Daidouji, heiress to a multi-million empire doesn't back down from challenges.

He must be hiding something from me, I pondered while watching him converse with Sakura-chan. But what?

Pretending to smile benignly as Sakura continued to ramble about her day ("Oh, that infuriating jerk! **Why** do I have to do this again, Eriol?"), I went through our short conversation in my head.

I ask him what's wrong.

He bites my head off.

I shake my head. _This isn't working._

"Tomoyo-chan?"

_Then if it wasn't something that I said…maybe something at work got him in a bad mood? _

"Were you listening?" Sakura glances at me curiously. _Not quite dear Sakura-chan._

Sakura is standing up with Eriol supporting her arm, gesturing towards the door with her free hand.

_Ah._ I smile reassuringly at my best friend, "Of course. Can you wait a second while I get my purse?"

"Of course, my dear Tomoyo," Eriol interrupts smoothly before Sakura can say anything. _Oh so things are back to normal, now are they? _I narrowed my eyes.

_Well if you think that I'm just going to let this go, you've got another thing coming._

"Actually why don't you two don't go back to the hotel, first? I think I'm going to pay a visit to that clothing shop that we passed on the way here. There were some fabrics that would be perfect for an evening gown that I'm working on."

I waited for Sakura to contemplate if it was safe to let me go alone, refused Eriol's polite offer to accompany me, and watched them leave the tiny café, the little bell chiming cheerfully to signify that I was alone.

Only then did I allow myself to admire my prize. On the ground in the corner of our booth lay a leather briefcase. I smiled.

_Let the games begin. _

* * *

**Random babbling:** Urgh, even after editing Tomoyo's character didn't come out quite the way I wanted. I changed the conversation in the beginning of the chapter quite a bit though, and made it considerably longer. I don't think Syaoran's character was displayed correctly the way it was before. It made him too… two-dimensional.

Well, this is the last edited chapter then. Time to work on chapter six : )

Remember the three R's: **read** the chapter, **review **the story, and **raise** my poor tired spirits:)


	5. Respecting Boundaries

Title: The Power of Art

Summary: A beautiful fairytale dream. One spell that can weave it into reality. But the problem is… all dreams end, no matter how much we don't want to wake up. SxS AU

Disclaimer: I own nothing except the biology textbook waiting patiently to the right of my elbow.

**Chapter Five**: Respecting Boundaries

Enjoy and don't forget to review!

* * *

"Damn it, I keep forgetting where I left off." She scrunched her forehead together contemplatively.

"That's attractive."

"Oh, shut up. I'm trying to think here, okay?"

"…I can't believe I'm trusting someone who doesn't even remember what she said yesterday to tell me things that happened years ago." She gaped at him.

" 'She'?! Who's this 'she'?" She looked around wildly. "I see no 'she' that you speak of! My eyes only detect a sullen king and a hooded figure, whose identity will remain unknown to everyone including the former."

"Are you implying something?"

"Only if you're smart enough to understand." She picked up a random twig on the ground and begun to twirl it between her thumb and her index finger.

"You know, you can take off that cloak. It's not like you don't have other ways to keep your face hidden."

She began to whistle as she spun the stick, "Ah, but where's the fun in that? Besides, the cloak's very stylish, not to mention it makes me feel like an undercover spy." Her eyes narrowed as she stooped her head to the grass level. "Secrets are everywhere."

He rolled his eyes and calmly ignored her "bum-bum-bah" secret agent background music. "With the sun shining at that angle, I can still see your red eyes regardless. But then again since you probably altered them, that and the fact that that's an impossible natural eye color, I'm guessing it's opposite of the real shade. I'm not very familiar with the color wheel. What color was opposite to red again?"

She sighed and dropped the stick onto the ground reluctantly. "Always the serious one. It's amazing how many big words you can fit into a sentence."

He scoffed. "Those weren't big words! And besides, you're whimsical, nonsensical, naïve, illogical, ADD-"

"What do you call those then?" she smirked.

"The vocabulary of an educated human being."

"So I'm dumb? How wonderful." She smiled.

He suddenly realized "You're avoiding the subject, aren't you? Answer me now. Why do you wear the cloak?" Syaoran began to drum his fingers impatiently on his pants.

She threw her hands up in the air dramatically. "What am I going to do with you?" After glancing at Syaoran's annoyed face, she hurriedly added, "I like having something to protect me all right? It's a psychological thing. It helps me when I'm wandering through foreign lands. Like, even if I left my real home, I still have a piece of it to take with me," and then muttered "bossy brat" under her breath.

Syaoran contemplated this. "That sounded wise."

"It did, didn't it? How strange." She tapped a finger to chin mockingly.

"So how did you leave your home? Now that I think about it, you've never talked much about yourself. How do you know this story? Did you actually know these people? Wait, no. Scratch that. Of course you know them, or then you wouldn't care so much. But why-"

"Questions, questions, questions. Not only are you serious as a rock, but curious as a freaking monkey."

"Monkey?"

"Hey! Monkeys are very intelligent creatures. You should be honored to be compared to such a primate. Many believe that humans came from apes, you know. And since the scientific term for humans, _Homo sapiens_, is Latin for wise man (literally), monkeys are very close relatives to an extremely smart species. See?" she grinned proudly. "I can sound smart, too."

"Of course."

"I know. Insightful comparisons, that's me." She pat herself on the back.

"You're doing it again."

"Doing what?" She widened her eyes innocently.

"The changing topics thing. The random babbling. Trying to use it as a tactic for diverting attention from a potentially uncomfortable conversation." She remained silent. "Fine. I'll wait a couple of days before broaching the subject again."

"How thoughtful of you."

"I try."

They remained silent for a moment.

"You talk funny."

"I like to call it diplomacy."

She pulled a clump of grass out of the ground, and then examined it closely before throwing it carelessly to the side. She repeated the process.

"You're killing innocent living things."

"So? I'm bored."

He watched as she tried to jerk a particular stubborn root out of the soil. "Are you mad at me?"

"Just a little."

"Would it help if I apologized for intruding on your privacy?"

"Not really."

He opened his mouth hesitantly, thought about it, and closed it again.

"Go on," she said, not bothering to lift her eyes from the specks of dirt on her hands, "say what you were going to say. Nothing to be afraid of."

Syaoran ran a hand through his messy hair and looked away. "Look, I'm sorry. It's just that…" He fingered the white lapel on his shirt nervously, "I've never really been a trusting person, you know? I just wanted… to know what kind of person you were."

"It's still not a nice thing to do."

"Yeah… I know." He muttered.

Seeing his downtrodden expression, her heart immediately softened. She nudged his shoulder, and he looked at her curiously. "You know what would help?"

She whispered something in his ear.

"Whoa, are you blushing?"

He looked at the bird that was flying above them. "Nope. Wonderful scenery today, though. What excellent weather."

"You're blushing!" She began laughing uncontrollably. "Aww, little Syaoran's blushing. Aww!"

"If I admitted it, would you stop saying that?"

"You're blushing, you're blushing," she chanted before he slapped a hand across her mouth to stop the mantra.

Syaoran felt something wet on his palm and immediately removed it. "You're disgusting."

She withdrew her weapon into her mouth, "Hey what can I say? It works."

"You're incorrigible."

They were quiet for a moment longer before the girl asked, "Syaoran, do you love me?"

He gave her a weird look before replying calmly, "I already love someone else."

"Yeah, I know. But that doesn't mean you can't love me too."

He sat up straighter. "I could never do something like that."

"Then why'd you turn red when I told you to kiss me earlier?"

"Idunno…" he muttered and looked down at his feet. He let out a deep breath before suddenly standing up. "Listen." He began to pace in front of her, as if preparing to say something important. "You're a really pretty girl."

"I know."

"And well, really pretty girls make it easy for people to blush."

"Even kings have hormones then?"

"Even kings."

She ran her fingers through a mess of black hair. "So that's it? No deeper than shallow feelings of lust?"

"… You could put it that way."

And with that said, he began to walk back towards the castle. She grabbed his sleeve. "What do you want?"

"I'm sorry."

He smiled, "For what? You didn't do anything. You should be doing the opposite and accepting _my_ apology."

"But what I did was worse. I know I confused you."

He brushed her fingers away from his arm. "Don't worry, you didn't. I haven't changed my mind for ten years. A conversation or two won't make a difference."

"You're not sure about that."

He patted her head. "I was just in a good mood today. Let's just say that something… special happened."

"Does it have to do with that girl?"

"Honestly?" he grimaced. "I don't even know if the person's a girl or not," seeing the weird look that she gave him he hurriedly added, "not in that way, though."

She raised an eyebrow. "Then in what way? Help me out, I'm a little lost here." She looked up at him questioningly from her sitting position.

"Well, uh," he stumbled. "It's kind of like when you meet an old friend who you thought you'd never see again. And, well, you feel happy. But not, like, ecstatic happy. More of a content type of happiness. Like… for just that one moment when you're hugging this best friend, you feel whole."

"For a diplomatic person, you have your inarticulate times, too." She laughed before leaning back so that her shoulders touched the tree trunk. "But yeah. I get what you mean."

He smiled in relief. "Thank you."

"Did the memory have to do with that girl by any chance?" She giggled at his expression. "Never mind, that was a stupid question."

Syaoran turned around, so that she couldn't see his face anymore.

"If you didn't love her, then would you love me?" She yelled out to his retreating back. She could hear his laugh in the distance.

"Well seeing as I love her I can't really answer that, can I?"

* * *

Tomoyo hummed to herself quietly as she tossed the pillows and blankets from the bed to the sofa and began straightening the bedspread. "The hotel has people to do that for you, you know."

All Sakura got back was a nonchalant "I know".

She watched exasperatedly as her friend, done with the sheets, began to calmly fold the blankets. "Tomoyo, spit it out. What's bothering you?"

Tomoyo smiled innocently as she laid the neatly stacked blankets on the foot of the bed, "Why would you think that something's bothering me?" She plumped the pillows up, "Everything's fine." She took a step back and admired her work. "Perfect. Now for yours."

Sakura resisted the urge to pull out her hair in frustration. "You've been doing this for the entire day, Tomoyo! Something is definitely wrong."

"No, you're wrong. Everything's _fine_," Tomoyo replied briskly and prepared to take the sheets off Sakura's bed.

"Stop it!" Sakura slapped her hand away.

Tomoyo withdrew her hand sharply. "If you didn't want me to make your bed you could've just said so," she sniffed daintily. "I'll just go wash the breakfast dishes."

"You already washed the dishes."

She shrugged, "Then I'll mop the floor. It's been getting dusty lately, anyway." Sakura sighed.

"Tomoyo, I-"

"It's ten. You have to go." Sakura looked at the small clock that was hanging on the kitchen wall.

"Yeah, you're right. But Tomoyo…" she paused for a second. "Never mind, forget it. Just promise me to not work yourself too hard, all right?"

For the first time that morning, Tomoyo gave her a small smile. "Thanks."

"Don't worry about it." Sakura smirked, "But don't think I'm letting go of this. I'm just bidding my time to pounce on you later."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Tomoyo gave her a push towards the door. "Time for your 'job.'"

"Wouldn't want to be late for work, now would I?" Sakura winked.

She was just about to close the door when Tomoyo cried out, "Wait!" Sakura obligingly stopped and watched as Tomoyo ran back into the bedroom that she and Tomoyo shared. After what seemed like an eternity, she returned holding a large parcel. Tomoyo explained breathlessly, "You might want this."

Sakura's eyes widened in recognition, and she grabbed the brown bag before giving Tomoyo a tight hug. "You're a lifesaver."

"I know, I know, you can thank me later. Go!"

After giving her another big mega-watt smile, Sakura dashed out the door. Tomoyo waited until the sound of her footsteps faded into the distance before collapsing to the ground.

Without a single word, she curled up into a small ball and put her head in her hands.

And for a very, very long time she didn't move.

* * *

**Random babbling: **Ah, it's been a while. A very long while in fact, and I really do apologize. On the bright side, I have a new story up, one that's (in my opinion at least) much better than this one. Since it's been over three (?) months since I last looked at this fanfic, I skimmed through the four chapters very quickly… and was shocked. I remember thinking that it was good when I wrote it, but honestly, now that I look back I have to admit: it's atrocious. I personally think that _Flowers of Yesterday _is better written, but since I made a promise to myself to finish this one, I'm going to try my best to save this sinking ship.

Now back to the actual story, the beginning of this chapter is actually really important. It's like… the turning point of Syaoran & Unknown Girl's relationship ;) I loved writing the dialogue to it. Absolutely _filled_ with character development. Ah, yes, in the end of this story our little Syaoran is going to be so very different from the beginning. Can you notice a few changes already? Also, Tomoyo is acting very weird in this chapter. Don't know why? Then it might be time to revisit chapter four. Besides that though, I know this chapter was really boring. Sorry. On the bright side, next chapter is the second round of the competition. _Drama…_:)


	6. Unspoken Misunderstandings

Title: The Power of Art

_**Summary: **__A beautiful fairytale dream. One spell that can weave it into reality. But the problem is… all dreams end, no matter how much we don't want to wake up. SxS AU_

Disclaimer: I own nothing except the blank works cited page saved on my laptop.

**Chapter Six: Unspoken Misunderstandings**

Enjoy and don't forget to review!

* * *

_The weather's nice today, _he yawned idly. It was a picturesque landscape: a "V" of birds flying alongside wispy clouds in an amazingly blue sky, greener-than-the-other-side-of-the-hill grass meeting the distant horizon, and all alighted with a warm glow by the rays of sunlight filtering through the clump of trees. He leaned against the bark of the tree and closed his eyes in contentment.

Occupied by his thoughts, two tanned brown hands went unnoticed as they crept up to his eyes. "Guess who-o?"

Syaoran suppressed the urge to smile at the childish gesture and merely brushed the hands away before turning around.

"Aw, you're no fun." She pouted.

"You're late." He fixed a stern frown onto his face and added, "Again."

She groaned and put her face in her hands, "I know, I know. My cruel, sadistic, dragon-boss made me work overtime."

"You've used that excuse already." She peeked at him through her fingers.

"I have?" Her voice was a bit muffled.

He rolled his eyes exasperatedly and jabbed her forehead with his index finger. "Idiot."

At this, she couldn't help but whip her head up. "Idiot?" She grinned. "Out of all the insults in the world, you pick such a simple and hackneyed term as 'idiot'? Really, Syaoran, I'm ashamed." She shook her head. "I expected much more from you."

He folded his arms across his chest and huffed. "I was short on time. The creative juices don't pump that quickly. Plus, I was tired."

They looked at each other for a few seconds - him glaring and her smirking - before she suddenly burst into laughter. "Haha, creative juices! Oh god, you crack me up…" She managed to sputter through spontaneous fits of giggles.

He couldn't help but smile a little. "Hey, it's not that funny. You're just purposefully trying to bruise my ego now."

She just ignored him. "But really, this 'diplomatic' talking has got to stop. Honestly, you sound like a geek."

"It's the way I was brought up." He shrugged. "Incurable, unfortunately."

"Ah well," she sighed. "Baby steps, I suppose. We'll start small." She cleared her throat, "May I ask how many times a day you converse with your peers?"

He raised one eyebrow. "Is this your imitation of a professional psychologist?"

"Perhaps." She ahem-ed again. "Please answer the question."

"You're enjoying this aren't you?"

"Guilty." She grinned. "So…?"

"I talk to Eriol sometimes, when we have meetings or such."

She raised an eyebrow. "What about others? Servants, commoners… friends?"

He stiffened. "I don't do friends. Allies are enough."

"Oh." She looked taken back. "Well."

She looked down and examined the grass next to her toes.

"Hm. But…" she suddenly brightened. "I'm your age! I can be your friend, Syaoran!"

"I see you've already overcome the name formalities," he muttered but not without allowing the corners of his lips to go up a bit. Strange how that seemed to be happening a lot when he was around her.

"All-ll rightie then! It's settled." She giggled. "Oh this is so exciting! I get to be friends with the king of the China!" Then, before he even had time to react, her arm suddenly found its way through his, and Syaoran found himself an unwilling participant in a half-skipping, half-hopping jig.

"W-what?" His first instinct was to check that no one else was watching. "What the hell?"

She paid not heed to his protests and continued to drag him in circles around the clearing. Yet somehow, his exasperated commands turned into small feeble complaints that this was very "improper", until finally he was laughing along with her plain insanity.

Eventually, however, she grew tired from lugging something so heavy and collapsed in a heap onto the ground in exhaustion. Syaoran watched the rise and fall of her chest as she lay there panting, spread out on her back as if she was making a snow angel.

He averted his eyes.

"Say it." She kept her eyes on the sky above them.

Nevertheless, he still hesitated. When he spoke, his voice was so soft that she had to strain her ears to catch his confession.

"Thank you."

The simple phrase hung in the air, tempting her to utter her _own_ confession. Nonetheless, she chose mind over heart and merely smiled in response, all the while refusing to look at his face for fear of breaking her resolve. Ironically, if she _had_ looked, she would've seen something on his face that almost akin to affection.

But she didn't.

So those two words, the speech that could have changed it all, merely drifted up beyond the grass, the birds, the clouds, the sunlight and entered the realm of things that could have… but never will be.

Two lonely souls sat in the daisy field; both busy trying to overcame their own personal dilemmas.

There was no story-telling that afternoon.

* * *

Tomoyo blearily opened her eyes and saw a very blurry version of a hotel living room. Groaning, she blinked again to clear her vision. This time, she saw a few vodka bottles littered haphazardly on the carpet around the sofa that she was currently lying on. She made a move to get up but after her spine let out a crack in protest, she fopped back down onto the couch. _Memo to self: there's a reason why mattresses were invented._

She let out a mirthless laugh at her musings as she stared at the ceiling above her. It had looked so new and unmarred when she and Sakura had first moved in, but now that she took the time to actually stare it, Tomoyo found herself tracing the imperfections in the air with her index finger. _So many cracks…_she thought a bit dazedly.

_Just like – _She suddenly shook her head to get rid of the depressing thoughts, and immediately suffered the consequences. _Holy crap, that hurts like hell. Ugh… I need some aspirin. _Tomoyo tried to lift herself up again, but all she managed to do was wriggle her toes a bit.

"My head's too heavy," she complained out loud to the empty room. Her announcement was met with silence.

Finally, she decided just to go back to sleep. _It's not like I can do anything in my present state anyway._

With a slight shift to the right so that her face was once again facing the soft leather material, she drifted off to restless slumber.

_Just like certain relationships…_

* * *

"Good morning, dear cousin!" Eriol looked at Syaoran as if he had sprouted another pair of ears overnight. And a leg.

He opened his mouth to form a smart comeback, but found that it was slightly unnecessary in this particular situation. Who could taunt such an unusually jolly creature? Finally he settled for shaking his head dejectedly. "I knew this day would come." He sighed. "The stress has finally gone to your head."

This remark brought Syaoran down a few notches, but, nevertheless, the grin overpowered the frown. He ignored Eriol and said nonchalantly, "So what do you have for me today? Another meeting? Conference? Treaty accords waiting to be signed?" He rubbed his hands in very un-characteristic-like anticipation. "I'm feeling very… adventurous today."

"Huh." Was Eriol's smart response.

"So…? If you don't say anything, then I'm just going to assume that I have a free day," he began to whistle. Syaoran began walking away from Eriol before suddenly stopping in his tracks to turn around and say casually in a very off-hand manner, "Oh right, I forgot. I have that competition round two thing today. I think it's been five days since the last time, right?" He dug one hand in his pocket and used his other to fiddle with the watch on his wrist. "Might be interesting," he mumbled quietly.

A lightning bolt seemed to strike Eriol at that moment, and he understood. "You like her, don't you?" he ventured albeit slightly scared of what the response might be. On one hand that would be great, super, all according to plan and whatnot, but on the other –

Syaoran looked horrified. "Where'd you get that idea? She's an old hag, with stringy hair and everything!" He shuddered violently to further emphasize his point. "Well. I've got to be going now." He waved a cheerful goodbye to Eriol before turning on his heel and walking away with slow, leisurely strides.

Eriol stood there rooted to the spot, a bit stunned from what he just witnessed. Slowly, he came back to his senses and a bittersweet smile edged itself across his lips.

"I hope you'll always be this happy, Syaoran. Really… No matter what happens to you, no matter how selfish my original purposes were, I want you to know that I didn't mean for it to get this out of control. When she came to me for help, I j-just couldn't resist, Syaoran. Not with how appealing the advantages seemed to be at that time." He swallowed and laughed bitterly. "Not that you'll ever hear this. No, I'll make sure of that."

Eriol took one last look at where his best friend had just stood a few minutes ago before slinking away himself in the opposite direction, his head hung low in shame, the exact opposite of best friend's exit just a few minutes ago.

The noisy clatter of a mop against the marble floors echoed eerily through the corridors.

* * *

**Random Babbling:** Well, there it is. Chapter six in all its glory. Actually, it's technically only the first part. The actual competition will be coming in the next segment, but I wanted to get this uploaded first. As always, delivery speed is directly proportional to amount of reviews.

Strangely, this story seems to be more well liked (12 times as many hits) that _Flowers of Yesterday. _Hmm. Any suggestions as to why?

All updated versions of the earlier chapters have been uploaded by the way. Feel free to take a look : )

_Remember the three R's: __**read**__ the chapter, __**review **__the story, and __**raise**__ my poor tired spirits:)_


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